


A Little Social Intercourse

by bjbookcase



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-27
Updated: 2006-06-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjbookcase/pseuds/bjbookcase
Summary: A shore leave where everything goes perfectly? Remember, this is Voyager’s Command Duo we are talking about.





	A Little Social Intercourse

With Kathryn Janeway hard on his heels, Chakotay ducked into a small courtyard that fronted the entrance to one of the local businesses. Tucked into an arched recess in the building, the courtyard was dim and shadowy — just what they needed at the moment. He herded Kathryn deep into the shadows, then moved between her and the walkway.

“Are we . . . still being . . . followed?” she panted, the packages she carried rustling against one another as she adjusted her grip on them.

Chakotay deposited the packages he carried in a heap on the ground before edging back along the stone wall. He peered around the corner. The day shift on Timballa III, this sector’s major port-of-call, had ended a short time ago. The walkways were rapidly filling with workers intent on finding a good meal and an evening of relaxing entertainment. Mixed in with the workers were throngs of milling tourists engrossed in the same objective. Added together, it made for some rather crowded concourses. That should have worked in their favor, but in reality, it was making it harder and harder to determine if the Timballan following them was still there.

“Can’t tell. Too many people.” But he continued scanning the crowd.

He was almost convinced they had finally lost their pursuer when the crowds parted and Chakotay caught a glimpse of a familiar, tall, red and black striped hat. The face beneath it, like all native Timballans, brought to mind an Earth feline — minus the fur. But cat or no cat, this native was a member of Timballa’s peacekeeping guild.

“Damn, he’s still there.” He moved back towards Kathryn. “We need to get moving.”

“What we need is a place to hide.”

“We wouldn’t need anything if you hadn’t precipitated another cultural incident.” Tired of their rapid flight from trouble, his sides bruised and his feet trampled from forcing a path through the teeming masses, Chakotay gave up trying to rein in his frustration. “What on earth were you thinking, Kathryn?”

“What was I thinking? I’m not the one who sucker punched that peeping pervert.”

Fortunately, years of serving at her side had made Chakotay immune to the glare leveled at him. He matched it dagger for dagger.

“That pervert had more than his eyes on you. Something he thought you invited, by the way. Where did you expect him to look when you bent over to examine that tray of necklaces? Couldn’t you at least have worn a bra under that skimpy top?”

Even in the dim light, Chakotay saw Kathryn’s eyes go wide for an instant and then narrow. _Oh, shit!_ What had possessed him to let that slip?

“Seems there was more than one Peeping-Tom in that jewelry stall,” she replied in a voice that could have cut through tritanium.

At that moment, two couples brushed by, heading for the doorway leading into the building. The first couple could have passed for human except for the green mottling that covered their forehead, eye, and nose area. Engrossed in their own conversation, they didn’t even acknowledge Chakotay and Kathryn. Chakotay doubted they were even aware there was someone else in the courtyard.

The second couple nodded in greeting. “Good evening,” said the male. This couple were Timballen and both wore the tall, striped hats of their work guild.

Though these hats were not red and black, the mere sight of them was enough to bring Chakotay sharply back to his and Kathryn’s predicament. He nodded to the Timballens, then stepped closer to Kathryn and bent his head to whisper in her ear. “You can poke out my eyes later. Right now, we still need to — ”

“If it’s any help, this time of night, the tables here go very fast.” The Timballen male stood in the open doorway. Exotic music and strange, but pleasant, scents wafted out from inside. “And visitors like yourselves are very welcome.” He smiled and disappeared inside.

Going inside was an option Chakotay hadn’t considered until now. Translated, the sign by the door read: Social Intercourse. That certainly sounded like a cafe or restaurant of some sort. And it was definitely a busy place. Three more couples entered the courtyard, each of them smiling or nodding in greeting before disappearing into the establishment. Catching Kathryn’s eye, he tipped his head in the direction of the doorway and raised an eyebrow.

“You did say we needed a place to hide,” he said, adding almost as an afterthought, “Reminds me a bit of one of the coffee shops near the Academy grounds.”

“A coffee shop?” She didn’t look nearly as ready to emasculate him as she had a moment ago. “If they serve Tiballan coffee, I might just be persuaded to forget this whole incident. Including your breach of protocol.”

Chakotay doubted even Starfleet had a rule about staring down your captain’s shirt if the opportunity arose, but he didn’t argue. In their short time on Timballa III, he’d seen Kathryn’s avid appreciation of the local brew. He pressed his advantage.

“Coffee and dinner are on me in that case,” he said with a smile. He held out his arm.

“I would think so,” she replied. But he thought he caught a hint of a smile as she tucked her hand around his arm and let him lead her inside.

* * *

The doorway opened into a generous foyer. The exotic music they’d heard outside played softly in the background and the mix of strange scents was stronger. To one side, judging by the limited seating and obligatory large, potted vegetation, was a small waiting area. A solitary window that looked back out into the courtyard graced the outer wall of the area. On the inner wall, directly opposite the window, was a closed door. Chakotay assumed it led to the main part of the establishment.

A narrow counter blocked off the opposite side of the foyer. Open-faced lockers holding outer garments and various other patron belongings lined the walls behind it. On the shelves above the lockers stood several tall, striped, stove-pipe type hats. There was a large range of colors represented. That, and the mix of alien belongings in the lockers, reassured Chakotay.

“Looks like a popular place,” he remarked softly. “One where a couple of fugitive humans could blend right in.”

“Yes, it does,” Kathryn agreed. “I wonder how we — ”

A Timballen female suddenly popped up from behind the counter, startling them both. On her head was a mass of wild, chestnut-colored curls topped by a purple and white striped hat. Her feline features shimmered with artfully applied makeup, and her graceful body filled out a curve-hugging, matching purple dress in all the right places. Chakotay couldn’t help but smile at how that dress revealed almost as much cleavage as leg.

Evidently, Kathryn didn’t see the need for similar appreciation. Her hand tightened on his arm. “Eyes front and center, mister,” she softly hissed.

“Believe me, they are,” he chuckled, trying not to wince at the fingernails that dug into his arm.

“Greetings, travelers,” the female said, her smile, voice, and demeanor all exuding the perfect degree of gracious hospitality.

“Good evening,” Chakotay responded. This, no doubt, was their hostess.

“May I ask with which ship you are affiliated?”

It wasn’t quite the question he expected, but he saw no harm in answering. “Our ship is called _Voyager_.”

“Ah, the crew journeying back to their home in a distant part of the galaxy.” The hostess paused and held out her hands. “Here, let me put your things in safe-keeping.” Once all their packages were safely behind a force field in one of the lockers, she handed Chakotay a claim chip and continued, “I must tell you, the other patrons will be greatly intrigued by your presence. There will be many seeking an invitation to your table.”

Chakotay shot Kathryn a worried look. Admitting they were from Voyager was one thing, but garnering undue attention was definitely not what they needed. “We don’t wish to offend the other patrons, but . . . but . . .”

“Your desire this evening is for exclusivity.” Their hostess was not only gracious, but perceptive.

He nodded, adding, “And anonymity.”

“That goes without saying.” She gave them a smile meant to reassure. “And though the other patrons will be disappointed, but they will respect your choice of exclusivity.”

The hostess disappeared behind the counter again, only to reappear with a small, metal and glass globe in her hand. She came around the end of the counter and held the globe out where both he and Kathryn could see it. A slender finger pressed the knob at the top of the globe. Immediately, it began to glow with a soft, white light; and when she released it, it hovered in place. “Position this above your table. As long as it is there, no one will approach you.

“However,” the hostess leaned a bit closer and her voice dropped to a husky whisper, “if you change your minds . . .” She plucked the globe from the air, pressed the knob again, and tossed the deactivated globe to Chakotay. “Now, if you will follow me, I will show you to your table.”

Something in her tone combined with the coy smile she flashed the command team bothered Chakotay, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. It wasn’t derision — or even duplicity. Just . . . something. He glanced at Kathryn, but she only looked amused. Perhaps he was letting their situation unsettle him unnecessarily. In all likelihood, it was just some subliminal cultural difference in attitude and expression he was picking up on. He placed his hand on the small of Kathryn’s back and ushered her after the hostess.

It was pure instinct that caused him to check over his shoulder when they reached the inner door. Framed by the window behind them, a Timballen wearing a tall, red and black striped hat stood on the walkway at the entrance to the courtyard. Just as it looked as if he was going to enter the courtyard, something farther down the street caught the peacekeeper’s attention. He hurried on.

Chakotay breathed a sigh of relief. No wonder he’d been uneasy.

“Chakotay?” Kathryn had noticed his hesitation.

He pressed his fingers into her back, gently urging her forward. “Our friend just went by,” he whispered. “The sooner we are out of sight, the better.”

* * *

The hostess lead them with practiced ease through a maze of shadowy passageways enclosed by what appeared to be translucent, glass walls that glowed with an ambient, purple-hued light. A number of doorways at varying intervals led into what Chakotay assumed were separate dining areas. He liked the privacy this afforded, though he did wonder how the invitations the hostess mentioned were exchanged when no one could see anyone else. Not that he wanted to bring the subject up again. Not with the look . . .

The hostess stopped to open a door, then stepped aside and motioned for them to enter. “I trust this will be sufficient for your needs?” she said as she followed them inside.

Judging by the intervals between doorways, the room was one of the smaller they’d passed, but more than adequate for two diners. A large, sturdy-looking, rectangular table sat in the center of the room. Constructed from some exotic wood, the luster and well-defined grain pattern of the table called to the wood worker in Chakotay. Once they were settled, he’d take the time to examine it more closely. Right now, he was busy watching Kathryn.

With the uncanny ability to ferret out her favorite beverage in a howling, sub-zero blizzard if necessary, his captain was closing in on a side table along the far wall. “Yes, please help yourselves to . . .” the hostess began, but Kathryn was already lifting lids on the thermo-carafes that lined the top of the table. She sniffed deeply at the contents of each one.

It didn’t take long. Target acquired, she poured a generous quantity into one of the drinking vessels provided, breathed in another deep whiff of its aroma, and took a long, slow swallow. The throaty moan that followed sent a ripple of response coursing through Chakotay. Not for the first time, he wondered if she made that same sound when satisfied in other ways. He smiled at the thought.

“Such an impassioned response.” The hostess stood at his side. She, too, was watching Kathryn and smiling.

“Kathryn does like her coffee,” he replied.

“As I said before, the other patrons will be disappointed. Those able to allow such unimpeded release to their passions are highly sought after. They elicit a heightened degree of enthusiasm to the social intercourse.” She turned her smile on him. “Though one can understand your desire for exclusivity better now.”

Despite her smile, Chakotay felt compelled to apologize. “Believe me, neither Kathryn or I generally forgo socializing. Cross-cultural exchanges can be quite informative as well as pleasurable.”

Kathryn joined them, coffee in hand as she picked up the thread of their conversation. “And we are explorers looking to learn all we can on our journey. Perhaps there will be an opportunity for us to visit your establishment again and interact with the other patrons. We aren’t scheduled to leave Timballa III for a few more days.”

“You — and others from your ship — will be most welcome.” The hostess’s smile deepened. “And do not be concerned about your exclusivity request. When the door to your space closes, you will see you are not alone in this desire.”

Just then, another Timballen wearing a purple and white striped hat entered the room. The young male carried a tray of assorted, brightly colored containers.

“As this is your first visit, it is customary to present you with a selection of our finest offerings,” explained the hostess. “I am certain you will find several to your liking, but if not, please let me know.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Chakotay said.

The hostess took the tray from the server and set it on a second side table. A mix of pleasant aromas — including the distinct scent of chocolate — emanated from the containers. He stepped closer, planning to examine them, but the hostess spoke again.

“You should activate the exclusivity marker now.”

Chakotay had nearly forgotten the globe in his hand. He found the knob and pressed it, activating the light.

“Over the middle of the table is the best position,” the hostess instructed him. She watched as he released the glowing white globe to hover over the table. “I will take my leave of you now. When you are ready to leave, just press this button,” she indicated a small white button by the door, “and I will return to escort you out.” The coy smile was back on her face. “Though I don’t expect to be summoned for quite some time.”

Once again, Chakotay felt that niggling suspicion he was missing something, but as before, he shrugged it off to cultural differences. He smiled back, catching Kathryn’s eye. “I’m sure our time here will be most enjoyable.”

Kathryn stopped sipping her coffee just long enough to murmur her agreement before heading back to the beverage table. As long as the coffee held out, Chakotay doubted there’d be any complaints from her.

* * *

With the hostess and server gone, and Kathryn focused on getting her caffeine fix, Chakotay turned back to his examination of the aromatic containers. Finding the one that smelled like chocolate, he lifted the lid and dipped the tip of a finger into the contents. It was warm; and when he tasted it, definitely chocolate — if a trifle oily. A fondue or sauce of some kind, he decided. There was probably something in one of the other containers meant to be dipped or covered in it. He replaced the lid, set the container back on the tray, and reached for another.

Hiding out might not be so bad after all. He and Kathryn would enjoy some refreshments and pass the time in conversation — or social intercourse as the natives called it. In the meantime, hopefully the Timballen peacekeeper would decide the incident in the marketplace was too minor to waste any more time on and they could return to Voyager with their reputations unblemished.

And just to insure that’s how things remained, he’d find some excuse to keep Kathryn on _Voyager_ for the next few days while he used Tuvok’s daily reports to keep an eye on the activities of the local security force. If nothing further came of their misstep, perhaps the two of them could risk another short visit to the planet before they left orbit. There was a lot —

Behind him, something hit the floor and shattered. “Oh. My. God.”

Chakotay spun around. “Kathryn?”

Standing amidst the shards of her broken coffee mug, Kathryn was staring at the wall in front of her. Correction. Kathryn was staring through the wall . . . and into the rooms beyond. No longer translucent, the wall was as transparent as a Ferengi’s motives.

But it was what Chakotay thought he saw through that transparency that he couldn’t quite put his mind around. Not even when Kathryn’s next words confirmed it.

“This is **not** a coffee shop, Commander.”

_No kidding._ So much for enjoying themselves.

And damn it, why did she always revert to his rank at times like this? This wasn’t a command situation. Not by a long shot.

Chakotay turned in a slow circle. As he feared, all the walls were now transparent. Apparently, the hostess’s comment about “seeing” when the door closed hadn’t been just a figure of speech. He and Kathryn now had a panoramic view of the surrounding rooms.

And the occupants of those rooms. Though facial features were hazy in the dim, purple lighting — _The anonymity the hostess promised?_ — body outlines and their relative positions were not. In every configuration imaginable on, around, and against the table in each room was a stroking, fondling, nuzzling, writhing, thrusting, heaving cluster of bodies.

No wonder the tables were built to last. And why, come to think of it, there were no chairs. _Social intercourse, huh?_ Apparently, one man’s orgy was another man’s —

Her cheeks flushed with color, Kathryn was in his face, spitting more sparks than an overloaded power relay. “I don’t know what despicable den of debauchery you’ve led me into, Commander, but we have to get out of here. Now.”

“Kathryn, calm down.” He reached out to put a hand on either of her shoulders. “We’ll call for the hostess . . . tell her we forgot a previous engagement.”

But his hands were thrust aside. “Don’t touch me.”

Suddenly, she couldn’t meet his eyes any more and her head bowed, her chin nearly touching her chest. Beneath pale eyelids, Chakotay could see hers eyes darting back and forth. “Those people are having sex . . . all of them . . . together.” Her voice was so soft he strained to hear it. And it quavered with an emotion rarely seen in a stalwart, Starfleet captain.

It did, however, explain her desire to hide behind formality and rank. Kathryn Janeway was as embarrassed as a Tholian caught in its own web.

Not that he blamed her. He may have grown up in a culture where sex was embraced as a natural part of life, not shunted behind closed doors and spoken of only in whispers; but even he was finding the activity going on in the rooms around them a bit disconcerting. To make matters worse, some twisted part of his psyche insisted on wondering whether the philosophy of Vulcan IDIC covered this situation. It definitely had the “infinite diversity in infinite combinations” parameters covered.

_Get a hold of yourself, old man._

_Why, when so many others would be happy to help?_ chimed in his ever helpful libido.

_Down, boy. Think of how this is making Kathryn feel._

_Yeah, feeling Kathryn —_

Okay. So maybe thinking of Kathryn wasn’t such a hot idea.

_Kathryn . . . hot . . ._

Spirits, but he needed to get his thoughts under control.

For once, the spirits cut him some slack. Something flickered in his peripheral vision. Anxious for something . . . anything . . . to take his mind off the uninhibited display around him, he turned his head to look.

Separated from his present location by several occupied rooms, was the door back into the foyer. It was open. And silhouetted within it was a familiar figure.

“I’m afraid leaving isn’t an option at the moment.” He looked back at the distraught woman standing in front of him.

Kathryn’s head snapped up.

“What do you mean ‘leaving isn’t an option’? You said we could call the hostess and tell her —”

“The peacekeeper is here.”

“Here? But . . .” Kathryn’s eyes widened and Chakotay knew she’d seen their friend for herself. She had a clear view of the doorway from her vantage. “Damn.”

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him.

“Okay, fine, you thought this was such a good place to hide, Mister Tactical Expert. Got a strategy for getting us out of here?”

So she was dumping this in his lap. Like it was all his fault. Fine. If that was the way she wanted to play this.

“Maybe you could flash your breasts at him.”

Her hand shot out so fast it connected before his brain even registered the movement. His cheek stung like hell.

As did the look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kathryn,” he began, but she cut him off.

“Let’s just focus on getting out here, shall we?”

The hurt had disappeared behind a stony stare. He’d have better luck apologizing to a bulkhead. Promising himself he’d make it up to her later, Chakotay turned his attention back on the doorway.

There were two figures there now: their hostess had joined the peacekeeper. Backlit by the light from the foyer, their gestures and body stance suggested an argument was in progress. If the peacekeeper’s intent was to search the premises, apparently he was facing at least a temporary roadblock.

Good, that gave them a bit more time. Now, if he could just —

“Chakotay?”

“Hmmm?”

“He’s going to have to enter the rooms to see who’s inside each one.”

“What?” His gaze shifted back to Kathryn.

“When the hostess led us here, could you see into the rooms?”

“No . . . I couldn’t. Which means neither can he.” Chakotay thought about that for a moment. “But how can we see him?”

Kathryn was miles ahead of him. “I think the walls are actually some elaborate system of viewscreens.”

“Then we aren’t really seeing through the walls?”

“More like seeing a real-time projection of the other rooms and passageways. Triggered, if I’m not mistaken, by the opening and closing of the room doors. Watch what happens when someone leaves or enters a room.”

Though he was grateful she really didn’t expect him to figure a way out of this on his own, watching the antics in the other rooms wasn’t exactly what he wanted to be doing at the moment.

Kathryn must have sensed his reluctance. “Directly to your left . . . someone is leaving that room. Watch the walls.”

Against his better judgment, he turned to look. And saw the walls of that particular room turn translucent as the door was opened, then return to “invisibility” as the exiting patron closed the door behind him. The same thing happened in reverse as the patron moved down the passageway and entered another room.

Forcing his eyes from the titillating tempest within that room, Chakotay considered this new information.

“So . . . if we leave our door open . . . the peacekeeper won’t be able to see inside. He’ll think the room is empty. And why bother searching an empty room?”

“Perhaps, but leaving our door open also means we won’t be able to see him. Or whether he decides to search every room regardless. No, a hiding place would be safer.” Kathryn’s hands went to her hips as she gave their room a dismissive once over. “Except I don’t see any good hiding places in here. Do you?”

“No, I don’t.” He’d caught the edginess creeping back into her voice, but he had no better answer to give her.

Or did he?

“Unless we hide in plain sight.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kathryn’s eyebrows threatened to meet in the middle of her creased brow.

Well, he hadn’t expected his sudden idea to be an easy sell. Hopefully, he’d be able to softened her up by the time he got to the really tough part of his sales pitch.

“Ever heard the saying ‘Can’t see the forest for the trees’? Or in this case, maybe that should be ‘Can’t see the trees for the forest’. In any case, think about it, Kathryn. What have we been doing since we discovered the peacekeeper was after us?”

“Besides arguing, you mean?”

He didn’t even dignify that with a reaction.

“Okay, ummm . . .We’ve been running from him?”

He rewarded her with a quick smile. “Yes, we’ve been running. And I’m betting he expects us to keep on running.”

“So instead of running, we’re going to do what exactly?”

“Hide in plain sight.”

“And we’ll do that by . . . ”

Here came the tough part.

“Blending in with the rest of the patrons. Of course, blending in would be a lot easier if we were sharing the room with some of those patrons. But doing that comes with complications of it’s own. No, we’re probably better off retaining our ‘exclusivity’ as the hostess called it.”

He was babbling. He knew that, but he could no more stop the words flowing from his mouth than he could stop Kathryn’s eyebrows from disappearing into her hairline.

“Commander. Are you suggesting we hide from the Timballen peacekeeper by hopping up on this table and having sex?” If her glare had been a phaser blast, the table in question would have been reduced to a pile of smoldering ash.

Knowing his own fate was unlikely to be as quick or painless, Chakotay felt his testicles shrivel up and make a beeline for parts unknown. He only wished he could follow.

“Sort of.”

The tension in the room was suffocating. He tried smiling, but gave up when he realized his expression probably looked as sickly as it felt. He cast one last, desperate glance back at the door into the foyer.

He counted four figures there now. Partially screened by the hostess and the peacekeeper were two additional silhouettes. As he watched, the hostess threw up her hands and retreated back into the foyer, leaving the peacekeeper talking and gesturing toward the private rooms with the newcomers. His reinforcements, no doubt.

Chakotay sighed. He no longer had the luxury of easing Kathryn into playing along with his idea. Whether she liked it or not, Kathryn was going to have to have sex with him. Sort of.

“Just trust me, Kathryn, and get up on the table.”

“In your dreams, Commander.”

Stubborn woman. With a low growl, he lunged forward and scooped her up. Climbing onto the table with a struggling wildcat in his arms wasn’t easy, but he managed. Hopefully, her struggles would look like part of the act to anyone watching. He lay back on the table, pulling her on top of him, her head tucked beneath his chin.

“Kathryn.”

She tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold and gave her a slight shake.

“Kathryn, the peacekeeper’s brought in additional help. They’ll be searching this room any minute now. Stop struggling and listen to me.”

The news there were now multiple peacekeepers hunting for them must have gotten through to her. Her struggles ceased, and Chakotay heard her draw in a deep breath. He loosened his hold just enough for her to raise her head.

She blasted him with both barrels. “Let them come. I am not having sex with you, Chakotay.”

Chakotay sighed inwardly. He could have done without knowing she preferred being arrested to having sex with him, but at least he had her attention now.

“Kathryn, we are the first humans these aliens have seen. Do you really think they know how humans have sex?”

“They are humanoid, Chakotay.”

“So a lot of the equipment is the same. Doesn’t mean the act is.” He could see the wheels churning behind her blue eyes and gave her a lop-sided smile. “Do you know for certain how Timballens have sex?”

“No . . .” she admitted. “May I sit up, please.”

Nodding, he let go of her and watched as she pushed herself up. He was surprised when she settled back, straddling his belly. Still, he knew he would have to choose his words carefully in the next few moments. Her full cooperation still hung by a precarious thread.

“So, just what did you have in mind, Commander.”

She was skittering back behind rank and protocol, but he’d take that over flat out refusal any day. _You might just avoid jail time yet, Old Man._ Now if he could just come up with a plan.

At that moment, Kathryn raised her hands and swept several strands of hair that had pulled loose from her ponytail off her face. As she did so, her short, camisole-style top pulled away from the waistband of her skirt, exposing a band of creamy, white skin marred only by a few faint freckles and a small, dimple-like indentation. Her belly button.

A bit quirky, but . . .

“This might just work,” he murmured.

Chakotay’s fingers flew to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling in his haste. _Damn._ He was getting ahead of himself. Drawing in a slow, deep breath, he closed his eyes and willed himself to slow down and take things — including buttons — one at a time.

When he opened his eyes again, he caught Kathryn staring at his exposed chest, her face flushed with a fascinating mix of uncertainty, bewilderment, and . . .

Nah, he was imagining things. Besides, this was no time to worry about something like that anyway. The peacekeeper had to be only a room or two away.

“Kathryn, just trust me and follow along, okay. Are you wearing panties?”

“What?”

“Panties. Under your skirt.”

“I suppose you want to know the color, too.”

“Not at the moment.” He reared up off the table, forcing her to move back onto his thighs as he sat up. “But I do need you to take off your skirt.”

“What?”

“Kathryn,” he said as he pulled off his shirt and dropped it over the side of the table, “this isn’t going to be very convincing if we have all our clothes on.”

“Oh.”

Her expression was so priceless something in him couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. He reached out, slipped a finger under the waistband of her skirt and tugged gently.

“Need some help?”

“I can manage just fine, thank you,” she replied, pushing his hand away. “Though I must be nuts to go along with whatever cockamamie plan you have in mind.” Nevertheless, she rose up on her knees, unfastened the zipper on her skirt, and pulled it up and off over her head. She tossed it on the floor next to his shirt, then turned to look at him.

Their eyes locked and Chakotay fought to keep his expression neutral. The last thing he needed was for Kathryn to see the flame of desire the sight of her slender, bare legs straddling his thighs kindled in his belly. Not that the stirring he felt in his groin wasn’t about to betray him anyway.

_Concentrate on what you need to do next, Old Man._ Yeah, concentrate. He needed to do something next . . . damned if he could remember what.

Surprisingly, it was Kathryn who came to his rescue. Without batting an eye, she reached a hand out, slipped her fingers into the waistband of his slacks, and tugged gently. “Need some help?”

Jolted from his distraction, Chakotay’s own hands shot out. His intention was to lift her off his thighs and onto the table beside him. Unfortunately, his actions were so fast and so unexpected, he caught Kathryn off guard. Her legs and arms tangled with his, throwing them both off balance. He winced as her nails scored his flesh as she latched onto his arms in an effort to steady herself.

For a long moment, they were in imminent danger of tumbling off the side of the table. Then, with a loud grunt, Chakotay managed to free a hand and grasp the opposite side of the table. Grunting again, he heaved the two of them back into the center of the table. They lay there for a moment, still entangled.

“Sorry.”

“My fault.”

“You okay?”

“Yes, but I still need you to move.”

“How about if I move myself this time?”

“That might be wise,” Chakotay agreed.

With Kathryn safely perched out of the way, Chakotay sat up and shed his trousers. He dropped them to joined the rest of the clothing on the floor. Then, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he gently took Kathryn’s hands in his own and drew her closer. Foreplay was over; it was time for the climax.

Short on time, his explanation was brief. Perhaps too brief.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she exclaimed at one point as he was guiding her into position. Only when he pointed out that it not only better facilitated their performance, it was the best way of camouflaging his human features — not to mention his rather distinctive tattoo — did skepticism give way to compliance

Her own features were easier to hide. Reaching behind her head, he freed her hair from its silver clasp and used his fingers to comb it into two, long, silky veils that screened either side of her face. Fortunately, on Timballa, her hair’s rich auburn color wasn’t an unusual shade.

Needing something to help soothe the nervous tension he knew they were both still feeling, Chakotay kept his hands on Kathryn’s head, using his thumbs to lightly trace circles on her temples. This, in turn, caused a slight movement of her head which set her hair to swaying. It brushed against his skin, blending with the rhythm of his fingers as fluidly as cream into coffee.

Feeling both of them relaxing into the sensations, he knew it was now or never. Sliding his lips over the taut smoothness that hovered above him, he quickly found the small, shallow dimple he was searching for. Alternating between his lips and his tongue, he added a third sensual rhythm to their tactile symphony as he began playing the warm, satin skin of her belly as skillfully as a master plays his violin. If the occasional soft moan escaped him, it was all in keeping with the spirit of things. Wasn’t it?

Still, he found himself almost giddy with satisfaction when Kathryn, too, let go of her last bit of uncertainty. Hearing her quietly moaning in response to his tender ministrations, his fingers buried themselves in the soft silkiness of her hair. His lips and tongue stepped up their assault, letting her know how much he appreciated her total cooperation.

* * *

It was a sound he’d been expecting; but unable to see the door to their room, and distracted as he was by the woman positioned over him, Chakotay nearly missed hearing it open. What he wasn’t expecting was the low whistle of surprise followed by an all too familiar voice.

“Way to go, Chief!”

His busy hands and tongue froze in mid-stroke.

“Ohmygod! Tom, I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

Make that two familiar voices.

“Paris, Torres, get the hell mmmuummph — ” His demand, and his air supply, was cut off as Kathryn collapsed on top of him. Her face pressed into his belly, her body trembled and shook against his own. Paris was a dead man.

“Relax, B’El. They don’t call this place ‘Social Intercourse’ for nothing.”

Certain moving would only cause Kathryn further distress, Chakotay remained as he was. Unless the spirits let him suffocate first, eventually he’d get the chance to show Paris just what his smug, cocky comments were earning him. He’d been wanting a good workout in the boxing ring.

Muffled footsteps came closer and circled the table.

“I gotta give you mega points on finally scoring, Big Guy. But I’m afraid I’m gonna have to dock you a bunch on your technique. You might wanta note that a few inches can make all the difference in the world between success and failure when it comes to sex.”

A pregnant silence swelled to fill the room. Then, suddenly, an unexpected voice asked, “Are you speaking from experience, Mister Paris?”

_Kathryn?_ Considering the distinctive, husky chuckle rumbling against his belly, it had to be.

From across the room, a loud, earthy chuckle echoed it. “Oh, good one, Captain,” B’Elanna declared, before sweetly adding, “Aren’t you going to answer the lady, Tom?”

This was the comeuppance of the decade and Chakotay wasn’t about to miss it. He grasped Kathryn’s hips and lifted her lower body off him. Her head and shoulders slid into his lap as he sat up, but when she made no effort to move them, neither did he. Braced by his arms, he turned to face their company.

B’Elanna stood by the open door, a huge grin lighting her distinctive, Klingon features. Seeing him looking at her, her expression sobered and she gave him a resigned, what’s-a-girl-to- do-with-a-pig-like-him shrug. Then, quick as a crafty fox, she gave him a broad wink and an enthusiastic thumbs-up; her grin returning full force.

Tom, on the other hand, was standing only a few feet away, off to one side of the table. For the first time in Chakotay’s memory, the young pilot looked totally at a loss for words. It was an opportunity too good to pass up.

“Yeah, Paris, aren’t you going to answer the lady?”

This time as Kathryn’s body began to tremble and shake against his own, he recognized it for the laughter it was. Without thinking, he shifted his balance to one arm and used his free hand to gently stroke those heaving shoulders while they all waited for Paris’ response. If they were lucky, perhaps he would see the wisdom in retreating and living to mouth off another day.

Then again, this was Tom Paris they were pinning those hopes on.

As dumb shock gave way to a look of pure devilment on Paris’ face, Chakotay tensed. The hand stroking Kathryn’s back settled between her shoulder blades, his fingers splaying out as if to shield her from whatever was coming.

“I’ve never had any complaints, Captain. Though, knowing your scientific background, if you’d like proof of that, I’d be happy to — ”

“Aarrgghh!”

“Oooph!”

A compact, but wiry, brown body had shot across the room and grabbed Paris by the shirt collar. Twisting the fabric tightly in her hand, she tugged his head down so they were eye to eye.

“Enough, Flyboy,” B’Elanna snarled. “Even I’m considering murdering you now. Just give them their package and let’s get out of here.”

“Easy, B’El. The captain and Chakotay know it’s all in good fun. If they were uptight about sex and sexual humor, they certainly wouldn’t be in a place like this, now would they?”

“Then why did that peacekeeper think they were trying to evade him?”

Kathryn’s head popped up out of Chakotay’s lap. “You spoke to the peacekeeper following us?”

Both crewman turned to look at their captain, but it was B’Elanna who answered.

“We ran into him out in the foyer. When he learned we were from the same ship, he thought you might be more comfortable with us bringing you your package.”

“Package?”

Tom finally spoke up, but his eyes remained glued on Kathryn. “The one you dropped in the marketplace during some minor altercation. Something about the big guy rescuing you from some masher?”

Paris was blatantly fishing for details, but Chakotay wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Especially when he was wearing that irritatingly smug smile again. Just what did he think he was smiling about this time?

And then it hit him.

“Paris,” he roared, “unless you want your face rearranged like the guy in the marketplace, I suggest you start looking elsewhere. Now!”

“Just enjoying the view, Chief.”

“Yeah, well that’s a view I’m getting tired of everyone getting to enjoy except me.”

With a deep sigh, Chakotay lay back down on the table and shut his eyes. In a world-weary voice, he added, “If you and B’Elanna are finished delivering that package, would you please leave.” It wasn’t a request.

“We’re going, Chakotay,” replied B’Elanna. “Oh, and don’t worry. No one will hear a word about your visit to this place from us.”

Chakotay turned his head just enough to fix his old friend with a stony, one-eyed stare .

“Knowing you keep your promises is the only reason the two of you won’t die in your sleep, B’Elanna.” He let that sink in for a moment, before closing his eye and turning away. He listened until the sound of retreating footsteps were almost to the door, then added, “And, Paris, I’ll see you in holodeck two, oh eight hundred tomorrow.”

A rather shaky “yes, sir” was nearly cut off by the jarring _thud_ of a closing door.

Silence . . . at last. Concentrating on his breathing, Chakotay lay there, willing his turbulent emotions back into some semblance of control.. His mind, however, was too busy wondering how Kathryn was taking all of this.

_Kathryn . . ._

He opened his eyes to find her kneeling at his side; a soft, lop-sided smile playing on her lips.

“What?” he asked.

Her hand reached out to brush his hair back off his forehead. “Not exactly one of our best, huh?”

“Days?”

“Days, moments, shoreleaves. Impressions on our hosts, our crew . . . each other.” She shrugged and let out a long, slow sigh.

He caught the hand whose fingers were now combing through his hair and held it in his own. Unconsciously, his thumb stroked across the back of it.

“I’m sorry, Kathryn.”

“Oh god, Chakotay, don’t be. If anyone is to blame for all of this . . .”

He pressed the fingers of his other hand to her lips, silencing her.

“Equal blame?”

She nodded and he let his fingers slip from her lips. She shivered as he did so.

“Are you cold? Maybe we should get dressed.”

“I’m fine, Chakotay. But I suppose we should be heading back to the ship.”

It was his turn to nod as he freed her hand, and then helped her from the table. He scooped their clothing from the floor and handed her her skirt. He was turning his back, intending to give them both some privacy, when a hand on his arm stopped him.

He looked back at her. She was wearing that lop-sided smile again.

“At least the day wasn’t a total loss,” she said.

“How’s that?”

Her gaze drifted to his waist, followed by her free hand. His skin tingled as the fingers of that hand began tracing lazy circles around his belly button.

“I think I may have discovered a new erogenous zone.”

“Oh, re — ” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Oh, really?”

“And you know us scientists. We need lots and lots of tests to prove a theory.”

“Oh, really?” He got it on the first try this time.

“Yes, and I’m going to need a willing assistant to help me run those tests.” She looked up at him then, and his breath caught in his throat at the blatant desire smoldering in those blue eyes.

“Put your skirt on, Kathryn,” he said, giving her a heated look of his own.

He stepped away to pull on his clothing, but continued watching her out of the corner of his eye as she leaned over to put first one foot, and then the other through the opening of her skirt. As she straightened, pulling the skirt up into place, Chakotay smiled. It was indeed an enjoyable view. And in a short while, there’d be a whole lot more to enjoy.

“Ready?” If Kathryn had noticed him looking, she wasn’t letting on.

“And willing,” he quipped. “How about you signal for the hostess while I retrieve the exclusivity sphere?”

She nodded and headed for the door. He headed for the table.

“Do you think the hostess will be disappointed we are leaving so soon?” Kathryn asked a moment later. “She seemed so pleased to have a couple of humans joining her pool of patrons.”

Chakotay slipped the deactivated sphere into his pocket and turned from the table. “Don’t worry; she still has a couple.”

“What?” Kathryn spun around and stared at him in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. It was bad enough when Tom and B’Elanna walked in on us. I don’t think I’m ready . . .”

He hurried to her side.

“Relax, Kathryn. Look.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her until she could see what he’d discovered while retrieving the sphere.

“Tom and B’Elanna?”

“None other,” he replied with a chuckle.

“I should have known that good Samaritan, returning our package bit was just a cover for another perverted Paris escapade. I can’t believe B’Elanna let him talk her into this”

“You let me talk you into it.”

“We were pretending. They are not.” Kathryn tilted her head as if seeking a clearer perspective.

“See something you’d like to try?” Chakotay grinned. She turned such a pretty shade of pink when she blushed.

Yet, she could turn the tables on him in the blink of an eye.

“Maybe . . . once we are back on _Voyager_ ,” she drawled as she pressed herself back against him. She reached up and pulled his hands from her shoulders, guiding them down to rest on her belly. “Social intercourse might be fine for some people, but for what I have in mind, we’re definitely going to want some privacy, Commander.” She smiled wickedly at him over her shoulder. “And soundproof senior officer’s quarters.”

“Yes, ma’am!” he managed to croak. He tightened his arms around her, savoring her nearness, and thoughts of what was to come. His fingers idly stroked her belly as he wondered what Kathryn would think if he asked their hostess for some of those massage oils he’d started to sample earlier. Especially the chocolate one.

Speaking of their hostess: What the hell was taking her so damn long? He and Kathryn had some very engaging intercourse to get underway.

And the sooner, the better.

 

-THE END-


End file.
